Forgotten Realms: The Silver Age
by BluePhoenix21
Summary: Drizzt & Catti-brie visit her recently-discovered sister in Silverymoon, where Alustriel uncovers a plot to destroy the entire city and all magic within. Can a group of visiting adventurers find the tools of destruction first? A Serenade story!
1. Chapter 1: Prelude

A Word Of Explanation As We Begin

The following story is a Roll Playing Game occurring at my board (follow back to my profile and click my website link to find us) that was just way too good to keep amongst ourselves. I love the creativity and energy --as well as the writing talent-- that everyone is putting into it, and I just had to share! We hope you enjoy it, and hope you join us too. Always looking for new players! Thank you to all my friends who agreed to my posting this story where more people could see it. (This story is Copyrighted by on behalf of the individual contributors.)

Character: Player:

Serenade BluePhoenix  
Frøya Sushi-san85  
Lam/Amafrey Dr Archeville  
Ronin Verser Wallace  
Cordiana Star the Wanderer  
Ondea Holy Ibanez  
Cascade Bishi NERV  
Paris Verser Wallace  
Greystone Dr Archeville  
Beiro Star the Wanderer  
Ben Cobbler Verser Wallace

Alustriel, Drizzt, Catti-brie and Jarlaxle are shared among BluePhoenix, Sushi-san85, Verser Wallace and Dr Archeville, as they weave in and out of our tale.

*******

The year is 1368, set just after The Legend of Drizzt: Servant of the Shard.

**********

Prelude

The day had begun with much bluster and excitement as workers began setting up kiosks and stalls all around the wide market area of Silverymoon, a wondrous city known as _The Gem of the North_ for its hospitality and culture, its many buildings of higher learning and its system of government that kept the people happy and productive.

Silverymoon was always a good place to be, with its winding streets and its neighborhoods bursting with personality, thanks to many years of planning by the folk there and especially with thanks to the guidance of High Lady Alustriel Silverhand, who worked ceaselessly along with the Harpers and powerful local mages to see that her city and her people were well cared for. If all went well, Alustriel's greatest dream yet would soon be realized, and the confederation of the Silvermarches would soon be born with over a million people and many cities joining forces for the greater good of all, with Lady Alustriel as its first ruler and Silverymoon its capital city, ensuring prosperity and growth for many years to come.

A special excitement was in the air as the Silvaerens prepared for their Silver Festival, a once-every-five-years extravaganza held in high summer and widely regarded as the absolute best faire in the entire north of Faerûn. People came from as far away as Waterdeep to participate in contests of strength and accuracy, taste exotic food and wines, buy unique magical items and cheer the spectacular entertainment -- with something special planned for each day of the remarkable tenday event.

Already the inns were booked solid in advance of arrivals and people from the farthest away had begun trickling in days early; better early than late since you never quite knew how long a journey would take on the open road. The cleared areas surrounding the city were always patrolled by the city's army, the Knights in Silver, which was doubly important now that the many people who could not secure a room would spill over to take temporary shelter in small buildings and tents erected outside the city's gates. Several areas were being cleared and roped off for jousting and log throwing tournaments as well.

Now it was late morning and the rich aromas of grilled and steamed foods from several venders' stalls were already wafting through the crowd as many of the cityfolk worked and others strolled, no one wanting to be indoors on such a fine and interesting day...

...and so our tale begins...


	2. Chapter 2: Introductions

***********

Introductions, Part One

There was a long procession of people filtering into Silverymoon's western-most gate, even this far ahead of the festival there were dozens if not hundreds of people entering the city. Amongst these people were travelers and adventurers, rogues and paladins, people of all professions and various races. Generally they were hemmed together, the thick crowd jockeying for position, bodies pressed uncomfortably close, the smell of bodies fighting with the enticing aroma of mid-morning foods.

However even in a tight press such as this, there were those given a wide birth, those thought to be too powerful, violent or important to infringe upon. A roaming band of half-orc warriors, perhaps mercenaries, perhaps worse, a paladin in armor gleaming like the new born sun, a procession of clerics singing praises to the day and sprinkling holy water on any who drew too close. One of these small pockets of freedom was Ronin.

The warrior's armor gleamed in the rays of the late morning sun, blinding those who drew too close if they looked upon him at the right angle. He was a shining bastion of silver astride a horse that made warhorses look like pygmy-ponies, its deep black coat seeming to absorb the light about it in stark contrast to its masters armor, the creature snorting and stomping impatiently as it was forced to slow trot through the thick wall of bodies. Ronin laughed at the creatures discomfort, understanding its desire to be free of the press, and patted it affectionately on the side of the neck to ease its ire. Trained or not a dire animal was still a fierce beast.

Twisting in his military saddle the psi-warrior looked behind him at the carriage following in his wake, his eldest half-blood son guiding the stately wagon and beaming at his father, mirroring Ronins' own smile. "Not too bored are ya, Kudret?"

"No father!" shouted the young man as he waived animatedly to show his excitement. "I just can't wait for the festivities to begin."

Ronin was about to respond when his son twisted in his post, a confused look rippling across his face before shouting back. "The triplets are hungry!"

"Like heck," laughed Ronin. "They ate not long ago."

"But father!" whined the two boys in perfect unison, they had an uncanny ability of doing that and hitting just the right octave so he could hear them above anything else.

"Just a little snack, pleeeease," pleaded the girl in that sing-song tone he found it infinitely difficult to resist.

"I'm going to spoil you brats," chuckled Ronin as they approached the head of the great queue. Turning to the silver guard monitoring the entrants to the great city he smiled. "My good man."

The soldier looked up, and up, and then squinted a little before warding his eyes against the glare. "Sir, name, purpose and number of your party?"

"Ronin, my purpose is to enjoy the delights of your town and festival and I have with me my person and four bastards."

The guard paused in his notations, taken aback by Ronin's words and looking over at the following carriage. The children laughed, the look was always priceless. "Um, quite, Silverymoon welcomes your person and patronage sir, uh, Ronin. You will find stables South and East should your steeds need, ah, tending."

"Thank you my good man," nodded the half-giant as he prepared to move along.

"Faaather," called the two boys of the triplets.

"Oh very well," relented Ronin with a smile. "Good sir, would you know the way to a good shop of sweets?"

The children cheered, even Kudret.

***************

The people of Silverymoon were always industrious, but to see them in action in the few days before the festival was something else entire. Honestly, he was impressed and he could understand how they'd come so far and why Lady Alustriel took such pride in her home and her work to establish the Silvermarches. The energy was electric and infectious and in fact was the reason he was up so early though he usually slept in until well past noon.

"Cobbler!" a man half-cheered, half-greeted him as he strode past, giving him a wry smile and a tip of the hat.

The mage nodded, sharing a conspiratorial smile with one of his regular customers.

"BeeEen," sang two women striding past the wizard as they flashed him a pair of inviting looks. To these he tipped his hat, flashing his most open and generous smile as he responded with a simple, "ladies."

It was good to have regular business but with such a large influx of people entering the city he couldn't rely on word of mouth alone to spread the tale of his good services. Sometimes one had to sell themselves first and Ben was all for drumming up a bit more business.

"Steak on a stake!" called a man just to the side of the Blue Mage.

Arching an eyebrow Cobbler fairly glided over to the middle-aged man, "pardon?"

"Steak, on a stake," the man repeated, holding up a cooked chunk of meat skewered by a thin wooden rod. "Just half a silver m'lord."

Ben smiled, it was always amusing to see what suffix a huckster used to inflate a customer's ego. He was peckish so he paid the man his inflated price and took a bite. The meat was succulent and well seasoned, just crispy enough on the exterior and juicy, not wet, inside. It wasn't cow though, Ben had traveled enough to know rat when he sunk his teeth into it. "Delicious."

Tipping the man the other half of the Silver piece Ben strode on, it was time to start advertising his own wares... subtly.

***********

Sweat ran down her forehead, the back of her neck and back and the cleft between her breasts, gathering in pools in her armpits and the small of her back. Even with her messy blonde curls tied up in a bun and most of her face guarded from the sun by an outrageously large hat, Frøya Jarlsdottir didn't feel the least bit comfortable. _Go to Silverymoon_, he'd said, _enjoy the sights, sounds and smells and learn some new magic. I'm sure they'll be selling spell scrolls there._ But the _sight_ before her was of a fat, wheezing man in his mid-thirties with so little hair left on his head and a perpetual frown on his face that it made him look ten years older. _Sounds_ were plenty, but they were all drowned out by the annoyingly loud crying from a nearby baby. How such a small thing managed to make so much noise was beyond her. She fingered the holy symbol hanging around her neck, a pair of female eyes surrounded by seven silver stars, briefly considering casting a _silence_ spell on the kid. Just as she picked some spell components from a pouch, however, the baby's mother arrived at its side and managed to calm its whining. She breathed a sigh of relief, but it was far too soon, as another baby right behind her started crying instead. Was it just her, or did babies everywhere have a global agreement to annoy the hell out of everybody else with their pointless crying?

Sights and sounds were already grating on her nerves in the seemingly never-ending line of people moving into Silverymoon that day, but it was the smell that bothered her the most. Inside the city, certain sanitary needs were met with a surprisingly high quality, no doubt thanks to its elven citizens, but outside, poorly improvised latrines were reeking of dung. It didn't help much that the road into the city was littered with horse dung either. She'd already been forced to levitate above several large piles and dance around the rest. How people could accept living under such conditions was beyond her understanding. Had they lost all sense of smell or were they actually content with living like animals?

Already she began to miss her cottage that smelled of rosemary in the morning and jasmine in the evening, foxgloves that grew in her wild, fenceless garden full of all sorts of herbs, the apple tree that gave her fresh, healthy apples all year through and the small, man- and woman-shaped candles made from beeswax. Just the thought of beeswax gave her a pang of homesickness so strong she almost turned on her heels and headed back. Almost. She had a purpose for being there, several purposes in fact, one of them involving someone she'd really not want to cross and another involving a matter that was very personal.

Still, she'd spent hours waiting for the line to get a move on, and she'd spend even more hours doing so unless these addled-brained, wide-eyed fools in front of her were suddenly swallowed up by the ground. Hey, that would be a handy spell in situations like these. She even began thinking up what spell components she'd need when more than half of the people in front of her moved out of the line and headed towards the tents outside the city, significantly reducing the amount of people in front of her. Frøya felt a pang of annoyance, even as she rushed to reach the gates before the people behind her, for how could those people create such a long line when they weren't even headed straight for the city gates anyway?

It took her six hours, five silver pieces worth of a meal and a constant, inner mind lecture about the moral use of magic to convince herself not to curse those people. The Bright Blade Brandished was a bright spot for any traveller who had stayed out in the sun for too long, even those with large hats like her. After soaking herself in a long and much deserved bath, the young woman had asked around about the various merchants, and which ones would be most interesting for a wizard to visit. There were a couple of hushed whispers from a group of people who foolishly believed that she couldn't hear them. Frøya's senses, heightened after spending years living in the wild, caught their words, however. _Could she be the Witch of the Wilds that the people of Quaervarr have been complaining about? She does have a wild look about her. What brings her here?_ So, the "good" people of Quaervarr made complaints about her, did they? How touching.

A woman about the same age as Frøya stepped up to her, a kind smile on her face and her cleavage visible without being shabby. Frøya liked her already. "This is for you." She placed a pint of beer in front of her. When Frøya sent her a confused look, for she knew she hadn't ordered it, the woman pointed to a group of men over by the bar. "The gentleman with the outrageously coloured clothes bought it."

Frøya looked in the direction she pointed, quickly spotting the man she described. His long hair was tied in a ponytail and he wore a cheeky grin on his face, a face that would probably be considered handsome by many women other than her. She watched as he threw her a wink and raised a glass of wine in salute to her before raising it to his lips. Next to him, raucous and hooting laughter sounded from his friends, some of them making suggesting movements with their hips in her general direction. The grin he wore on his face at his friends' antics and his demeanour, that of a pampered noble most likely from Waterdeep or even further south, told her everything she needed to know. This young man was new to the North, planning to have some "fun" with one of the local women so he'd have something to brag about with his fellow southerners. It would probably have worked too, on gullible, innocent fools with no experience with men. With Frøya, however, it only served to disgust and insult her, especially since she _hated_ beer. Had it been Deepwine from the Underdark, Tethyrian champagne or this new drink called Moonshae coffee, however, she would have at least accepted the drink.

Deciding to give him a proper introduction to Northern women, she waved at the pint dismissively. "While I'm sure the tactic of getting a woman so drunk that she can't tell the difference between him and an orc has worked _wonderfully_ on several occasions among the lesser women of the south," she offered the offending beer a derisive sniff before adding dryly, "I'm not so eager to drink something _somebody else_, and a total stranger at that, bought me." She made circular movements with her finger right above the pint, feeling the power of the Weave fill her as her spell took effect and blended with the alcohol. "For all _I_ know, he could have tampered with it, perhaps even be trying to poison me. Do tell him that in the North, we do not trust strangers so easily as you give him back his beer, will you?"

The woman offered only a nod and a small, knowing smile as she picked up the pint, carried it back to the man and repeated everything Frøya had said, each and every word repeated perfectly. Frøya hid her smile and pretended to look suspicious, and, just as she had expected, he grabbed the tankard and called out to her that "never had he been offended so" before drinking the contents to prove his semi-noble intentions. Just a couple of seconds later, raucous laughter sounded from his friends. When he didn't immediately understand what the fuss was all about, the serving woman offered him a hand-mirror. Looking at himself, he now saw a pig's nose where his real nose was supposed to be, pig ears on the top of his head instead of the normal human ears on the sides of his head and buck teeth sticking out from his mouth. When he tried to make a sound, it came out as oinks, snorts and whines, and when he turned around to glare at his laughing friends, a lump in the back of his pants right above his behind told everyone that he'd earned a tail as well.

"Welcome to the North," the serving woman said with a teasing smile before walking off to tend to another guest. The man, now resembling more the animal that Frøya thought of him as, searched the tavern to find the culprit behind his transformation.

She was long gone, however, already having left to go in search of merchants selling spell scrolls. There was also the task of searching Silverymoon's libraries for information. While the interlude at the tavern had been enjoyable, she still had two missions to complete. Two missions that, with just the right amount of luck, wouldn't take too long.

* * *

Ben released a musical chuckle watching as some man failed, quite artfully, at picking up a young woman. There was a bit of something else in her, aside from the way she cast her mind; magic, if he had to guess. Casters carried themselves in a unique fashion, much like practiced swordsmen or town guard. The profession got into your soul and radiated like a thin aura to those perceptive to it. For a moment Ben considered slipping into the guise of a wild-elf but decided against it, it had been a long time since he'd "gone native" and he doubted he could fake it well, especially since anyone truly native would tell by the smell, they didn't have jasmine soap in the deep woods.

There was a flare of light to his left and Ben was instantly drawn to the ruggedly handsome and consummately skilled street magician juggling scintillating orbs of light through hoops of fire. In truth it would have taken any magician no real talent to do such a thing, but the showmanship, now THAT was a thing of wonder...

*******************

The sun was shining warmly as she stood near the corner of Old Wall Street and Moonroad watching the terrible old inn come to life again as the city's new orphanage. Serenade was having a good day; but she reminded herself wryly that it was early yet as she watched Glim waddling toward her with his tiny quick-step.

"Mistress Serenade! The orc workers are using the indoor privies!"

Sere schooled her face to not show any emotion; if she laughed at her gnome work foreman he would just get all flustered again. "That's better than a few days ago when they were still going behind the building, no? And they are HALF-orcs. They can be very civilized if you approach them properly."

Glim flustered anyway, Serenade clearly not understanding his meaning. "But Mistress Serenade, the privies are not hooked up yet. There is nowhere for their... _excrement_ ...to go!" Even saying the word had his face all screwed up. Sere bit her tongue.

"Ah. Then we will tell the dwarves that they simply MUST get the water system finished today, no? That way we can test the Water Closets and it will all be flushed away..." Sere looked up the four stories to the roof of her new home and watched the elves fitting together the catch-system. Now that the human crew had finished re-roofing the decrepit old building, the system of almost-flat metal panels funneled to catch the rainwater and send it to a cistern was underway. And the piping to bring the water down into the building (three Water Closets on each floor, four floors, and thirty kids plus six adult workers to use them) was being finished up even as they spoke.

"Yesss..." continued Glim, primly. "YOU go and explain to the workers in the basement that the privy pipes they are still sealing to the city's sewer system are already being used..." And with that he walked away, having lost his battle.

She hadn't thought of that. She had several humans working in the basement and sub-basement with a couple of halflings, who were small enough to get into tight spaces and make sure everything was being properly sealed so they could test the system. If they tried to heat-seal some pipe that the half-orcs had just used, that could get very fragrant in a hurry. Oh, well; she'd deal with it if it happened. She couldn't ask the half-orcs to STOP using the facilities now that they had stopped crapping outside, could she? They were from an older generation, and some things were just hard to change in their minds...

_'Damn Fret and damn Alustriel,'_ she thought to herself with much amusement. Everytime she turned around, one or the other was up to something that gave HER more work to do! Now Fret had purchased a building in her name, using her own money, which he 'managed' for her! Not that she minded being a land Holder, that part was going to be a source of much pride, she could tell already; but the work involved to make a home out of this rat trap was taking away all the time she could spare, and then some.

Her days were already filled with music, and entertaining at local parties and pubs, and mothering children, and actually SLEEPING once in a while. Oh, then there was the bard she had studied under who was back to give her a 'higher level course'; she wondered exactly what HE was up to. And THEN there was the money she was spending, and effort and persuading and cajoling and all the favors she was calling in, not to mention the manipulation and whining and promises of future favors in return.

Ah, well. It would be worth it when they were finally in their new home and she and her 'strays' had a place of their own. She ran her slim fingers through her straight red hair and went back to directing the half-orc workers who were taking the wood panels up to the third and fourth floors, which were ready for new floors and walls to be put in place. It wouldn't be long now...

*****************

Ondea had no patience for this. It was hot. Sunny. Crowded. All the things she hates. Her black leather armor and her weapons were carefully wrapped and bound and she carried her burden on her back. She, as always, wore the protective wraps around her arms, face, and chest, the dark gray material comforting even in this heat. She wore a loose fitting cloth blouse and a long skirt, both a light brown and appeared to be made from the same bolt of cloth. Her long, silver pig tails rested on her burden, and a few small strands of hair waved in front of her face. One of those strands found itself in her mouth being mindlessly chewed on.

She had been here several times before in her travels, but this was her first Silver Festival. She hadn't meant to be back in the city for the festival, it just kind of worked out that way. Her travels and work had led her here on this day, and she saw no reason to alter her flow through life for some festival. In fact, the festival could prove to be a boon for the young drow. She was certain all manner of interesting people, people with money for instance, would be in attendance. And people with money always have enemies. And enemies meant the need for protection. Some people in her profession prefer more active assignments and would turn down a bodyguard job; Ondea was not one of them. She would take on almost any mission for the right money. She was after neither glory nor excitement. She did what she did for coin alone so that she could keep moving and stay one step ahead of those she believed would pursue her.

The first thing this girl needed was something to eat. She did not desire the ostentatious luxury that those who shared her profession often seemed to fall victim to. It was more out of practicality than anything else. She preferred to remain as unnoticed as possible. The only exception to this was meeting with potential clients.

None of the taverns in this city suited her tastes. Her usual haunt when passing through the city was The Bright Blade Brandished as the help tended to leave her alone. And, there, well, she was as unremarkable as a throw rug. And that is just how she liked it.

The hostess recognized Ondea. As much as she liked her privacy, Ondea still had to walk through the front door and be sat just like everyone else. And, after a number of meals here, some of the help began to recognize the strange drow who seemed to be determined to have as little of her skin exposed to the air as possible.

As requested, the hostess sat Ondea in a small, curtained alcove off the main room. Ondea closed her eyes once she was seated and had deposited her burden next to her, and enjoyed being out of the sun.

* * *

Beiro snorted. The open sun was hot; he was used to the cool shade of towering trees. He hated this commotion, all these people rushing about to meet and greet. Riders allowing their beasts of burden to relief themselves where they stood, beggars looking for scraps, the rich flaunting their wealth, women desperate to get noticed, find someone with wealth so they can be waited on hand and foot for the rest of their lives, men going largely unnoticed, especially those without larger wallets. All of this reminded him why he preferred the forest. Beiro took little note of the more worthwhile performing deeds of goodness.

On the other hand, those exact same people were willing to pay far more than the normal going rate for freshly hunted animals and harvested mushrooms. The demand was high and the supply was low and Beiro was more than happy to take advantage of this economy.

As he entered the city, he was careful to take note of the marketplace. As he wandered in he noted the clerics first, either attempting to collect alms for the poor or casting upon passersby the blessings of their deities. He scoffed at that display. He made a wide berth from them as he walked up to one of the vendors.

He approached with a pleasant smile. "How do you do?" He held up the bag of mushrooms.

"Ya know ya can fetch higha mount from a tavern during the festivities don't ya?" The Halfling female respond from her perch on a crate.

"And cheat one of my fairest customers? I think not."

"Ya only fond of redheads, Wanderer" the redheaded Halfling responded. "They be tasty this tima year, I give ya 4 gold, kindness of me heart."

"Deal" Beiro smiled tossing the burlap sack to the young Halfling. After collecting his 4 gold, he turned and moved along through the crowd.

"Hey! You selling that meat? Hey ranger! I'll buy that deer!" a Half-Orc vendor yelled out to Beiro.

Beiro turned to see who was yelling. He frowned upon seeing the Half-Orc. "No." he responded hatefully.

"I'll pay 4 times top dollar. My boss needs it for supper tonight, he's low on meat." The Half-Orc called.

"I'm not selling to an Orc." Beiro responded before wading through the crowd. He pushed his way to a female Dwarf. "I'll sell to a Dwarf though."

"Aye, I'll buy it. The Hammer be needing extra meat this night."

*******************

It was hard to tell if the wide eyed, excited Wild Elf looking at the wonders of Silverymoon was more impressed with the sights, or if the folks gathered around her was more amazed to see an actual Wild Elf. Cordi was barefoot, but never came close to stepping in the mess left by animals, despite the fact she wasn't paying attention to where she stepped.

Cordi had never seen this many people gathered in one place. She'd never seen a city quite like this. Spying a building that'd be easy for her to climb, she dashed across the ground using both arms and legs and then climbed up the building with the ease of a squirrel and looked about the city with the wonder of a child. Raising her left hand up, holding her thumb and fingers to vaguely resemble a mouth she moved the appendages of her hand as she spoke "What a wonderful place!"

Cordi responded without moving her fingers "Indeed! Let's find some food!" And with that statement she leaped from the building landing on all fours, and then leap forward much like a frog, before dashing off on all fours into a crowd.

Cordi arrived with astonishing speed near several vendors and searched about their wares, inhaling deeply the aromas until she found something that interested her greatly. She handed the seller a few pieces of silver before taking the pieces of his roast meat and cramming the hot meat into her mouth.

"Water foul, no rat!" she exclaimed loudly once she recognized the meat. She looked about before being offered a wooden mug of ale. Cordi took the mug and began to drink from it. A young human male with a goatee grinned at her. He was hoping to add Cordi to his personal hit list, after all a Wild Elf would be bragging rights. He'd bought her the mug of ale.

Of course Cordi was far too childlike to take notice of his seduction attempts. She was more interested in the beer stein. She turned it upside down dumping its contents all over the street much to the ire of her would be suitor. She turned the mug over and over studying its rather bland details. Her eyes then shot wide open. She looked up at the disgruntled young man. "This is the Holy Hand Mug of Abur-Garden, Undead Dark Master of the Unholy Lost Debutante Ladies!"

The young man looked at her with disgust. "The... what mug?"

"It's fabled to attract young and beautiful women to one's side." Cordi was highly engrossed in this empty wooden drinking container.

The young man swiped the mug from her with a huge grin. "I could use the ladies!" he exclaimed gleefully.

Cordi looked on in horror. "But they're lost! And dead."

"Nonsense. I'll find them." He turned on heel and ran off with the rather worthless mug.

Cordi made a cute pouting face that lasted for only a moment. Her usual smile returned to her face and she began to look about the city once again, having already forgotten about the mug.

* * *

***Pastry Shop on Old Wall Street***

Ronin rotated his shoulders and stretched, carefully making sure not to hit any of the other patrons, though he couldn't help but fist the awning overhanging the store front. He was sitting on the ground with his back against the stone wall in place of a chair back, this put the table about chest height, which was about as comfortable as he generally got in most cities. A few people stared or gawked and he just waived or smiled, though most were able to remain professional and open. Silverymoon was a fairly diverse city after all. The bakery was one of the more well kept and established structures on Old Wall Street which probably explained why the guard had suggested it. At some point the shop had branched out, making not just breads but pastries and meat specialties though, to Ronin's displeasure, they were temporarily out of meats. He wasn't actually sure what he was eating now, just that it was covered in sugar and somewhat doughy but the children loved it and he had to admit he found it quite tasty himself.

As he watched a dwarf woman came striding up carrying a sack of, what seemed freshly procured meats. Raising a hand to get her attention he inquired. "Can I get three Shepards' pies when you're set up?"

"Won't be but a moment good man," smiled the dwarf in response. "Be some of the best pie you've had, you can trust the meat on that."

"Prove it and you'll earn yourself a tip as large as my gut," he chuckled.

"Aye," nodded the dwarf in agreement as she strode inside.

Kudret repressed a sharp burst of laughter. "Working kinda fast a pops?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," responded the knight with a grin before licking his thumb and reaching across the table to wipe a smear of sugar from the boy's cheek.

"Dad, I'm old enough to clean myself up," he protested.

"And I'll let you when you show the good sense to do it," returned his father.

The triplets laughed and smeared sugar all over their faces. Ronin shook his head, "pitcher of water please?"

* * *

Serenade left Glim in charge, with everyone assigned tasks that would take them hours to finish properly. As fun as it was watching the old building come to life with new hopes and dreams, it was NOT her main goal in life. Actually, she had never looked for much in life at all, being happy that she had started earning a living at age 12, on her own with a roof over her head and a hot meal when she wanted one. Then she had started with the 'strays'...

As she was an orphan herself, and a runaway from the confining city orphanage she had been dumped in as well, it had been hard for her to walk home at night and just ignore younger kids in the same terrible fix. So she started taking them home with her, giving them a warm place to sleep and a meal before they took off again. It became a habit, one she had to feed; so she started working a little harder, paying closer attention to how the performers in the little minstrel troupe she assisted played their instruments, schooled their voices, told their stories. Soon, she could do it too, and they let the cute little redheaded girl sing with them. It made her money.

More money, to help more strays, on and on as the number of kids grew and the money needed grew until one day she found herself sitting across from High Lady Alustriel in the kitchen of Sere's three-room apartment, kids all over the place and Sere's own assistant up in arms that she wasn't about to let the Shining Lady take anything away from them. Years later, Alustriel admitted to her that she had been concerned Sere was starting her own little thieves' guild, but after she observed the children and their home life, she had realized Sere could do much for the children if she helped Sere first.

Serenade smiled at the memory; it was an interesting relationship, with Alustriel acting as Sere's ambition where Sere herself had little. Now, thanks to Alustriel and Fret, Alustriel's trusted assistant, she and the children would have a home of their own, all because Fret had been managing (and holding back) her earnings until there was enough to buy the abandoned building, unbeknownst to her. That one loved surprises.

A huge smile on her face, Mistress Serenade, well-known local entertainer and full-fledged bard ...and now to be owner of the city's official orphanage and guardian of all underage wards of the city... walked down Old Wall Street toward the Market to find something unusual for lunch, her lovely rose-and-cream dress flaring attractively as she moved and her red hair flying in the breeze, and she couldn't be much happier if she tried.

The Silver Festival wasn't even started yet, wouldn't be for days, but there were already SO MANY people around her that she had to slip around groups of gawking newcomers to get there before the lines began for the best treats.

Yes, it was a good day.

*******************


	3. Chapter 3: The Silver Festival

*******************

***Pastry Shop on Old Wall Street***

The triplets struggled, of course, half-heartedly trying to evade Ronin's massive hands as he reached across the table with a damp cloth to clean their faces.

"Nya-nya," jeered the third of the triplets. Avelina waved her hands animatedly and stuck out her tongue at her father as she swayed in her seat to evade his "clumsy" attempts at cleaning her.

The boys laughed.

"Don't just laugh Kudret, help me," enthused Ronin, his voice raising a bit more than he intended. He was still getting used to exactly how large his lungs had become in the past couple decades.

"No fair!" wailed Avelina as Kudret grappled her still enough for Ronin to at last begin clearing her face. The boys laughed, partly because they were boys, partly because she'd been able to evade her father the longest, and they were happy to see her join the "clean-club".

Something bright and cream colored caught the corner of Ronin's vision drawing his attention to the attractive woman in the well designed dress. She seemed confused, or concerned, and was also followed by a not-too-small number of appraising oculars of which Ronin's pair joined, even if only briefly.

"Dad, clean!" called Avelina, noting her father had been absentmindedly wiping her clean face for a few seconds now.

Ronin laughed as he at last pulled away the now smeared cloth and nodded to Kudret to let the girl go.

Tilting his head ever so slightly Kudret smiled and spoke in giant. G-"What's got your attention this time?"-G

G-"I have no idea what you're talking about."-G

G-"You're blushing, should I turn and look for myself?"-G

"Now you're just being crass," finished Ronin flicking Kudret in the forehead with a single finger. The triplets decided to look around anyway.

"Your shepards pies," announced the dwarven keeper as she carried a stone dish topped with three large steaming confections atop it. An average shepards pie was about the size of a human hand and fit into the palm of Ronin's enlarged hand; these seemed closer to the size of Ronins' full hand. Fighting the urge to just shove one in his mouth he produced a sterling pair of utensils and neatly sliced out a quarter to pop into his mouth. The children tried to stifle their laughter, as the utensils were almost comically small in his over-sized hands.

"Delicous," he admitted with a grin. "How much?"

The dwarf seemed a little embarrassed to admit, "A gold and a half sir, heavy on the meat and all."

"Gold and a half?" asked Ronin in a fashion that sounded shocked. The kids grew silent, so did the dwarf.

Pulling out two gold pieces he snapped one in half and handed it to the dwarf, "this for your good store."

Just as the woman began to turn however he rested a gentle hand on her opposite shoulder and dropped a full gold coin in her hands with a mischievous grin, "and that for your good service."

The dwarf fairly beamed as she bustled back to work.

Sweeping into the sweets shop, Sere looked behind the counter at all the treats in the racks. "Beddy, what looks good today?" Serenade asked the dwarven woman with the big smile on her face. "I want to reward myself for not insulting the dwarves, confusing the half-orcs, or riling the elves, and three times deflecting and defusing THE gnome. I tell you, they'll put gray hair on my head long before the children do."

Beddy, the happy dwarf with a full gold tip from the huge man on the stone floor, was easy with her laugh. "I'd say you've had enough for one day, Miss! What about one of these nice custard tarts? Fresh from the oven and cool enough to eat just now."

"Custard! Wonnnnnderful! I'll take TWO!" Sere laughed back, handing over her coin.

"Custard!" cheered a small and cheery voice just behind Sere. Though she did not recognize the voice specifically Serenade could never mistake the trill of an enthusiastic child. But just as she turned to regard the child, the little boy quickly scampered underfoot and to the counter. "What's custard? It sounds sweet?"

Serenade looked down to see the child already wedged in front of her, his little nose tipped upward to the counter as he tried to get a look at her treats. She was very used to children feeling familiar enough to push right up against her when it meant being the first to try something new, so she held her ground and did not move, simply looking straight down at the top of his head with an amused expression.

"Custard is made with milk and sugar, and it's my personal favorite. Would you like to try a bite?" So used to speaking to children was she that she didn't even think to look around for who the little one might be here with, merely borrowing one of Beddy's knives so she could cut one of the tarts in half to share.

The child twisted as only a child could in that fashion that made them seem made of rubber as he smiled up at her. "Oh really? Could I? That would be great!"

"Stop that," rolled a deep baritone voice that seemed to quiver the air. Ronin looked over his shoulder, a stern though not angered look settling on the child. "Isingoma you haven't finished your funnel cake, so stop harassing the nice lady and let her eat her treats in piece. My apologies."

Isingomas' siblings shrilled a high pitched "ooooh" at their brother's admonishment, bringing a bright flush to the child's face as he tried to dissuade his father's argument. "But daaad, she offered, it's ok, right Miss?"

Serenade startled just a bit at the sound reverberating through her body and through the knife in her hand. She turned around to see a HUGE man sitting against the stone wall, several more children beside him at a table, all staring at the show.

"Isingoma, is it? What a unique name," Sere responded, speaking to the boy but looking at his dad. "Perhaps if I introduced myself your father might give me the pleasure of sharing a bit with all of you?" And with a look as bright as sunshine, Sere attempted to assist the boy in charming his father by enlisting the children to her side, like a game.

"Sweet, sweets, sweets," cheered the two younger boys in perfect unision, their voices harmonizing like practiced singers. Isingoma was fairly hopping in place.

"Pleeeease daddy," pleaded Avelina in a perfect sing-song counter to the two boys. "If everyone gets a piece than we won't over eat, right, right?"

Avelina was looking to Kudret for affirmation, hoping the eldest son would chime in on their side. Kudret smiled like a cat that just caught a mouse. "Avi makes a good point."

"Oh don't you start," began Ronin, before shooting a word in Giant at his son in what should have been a whisper but was a bit more.

"A point's a point," laughed the young son still seated.

"But there are rules," responded Ronin, his voice drifting into a slightly less humorous tone that quieted the children, but didn't remove their smiles. "The stipulation was that the lovely lady introduce herself before sharing her treat."

Sere gestured for two more tarts from Beddy and strolled forward, her left hand automatically guiding Isingoma back to his father. "My name is Serenade, and I welcome you and your harmonic and persuasive children to Silverymoon." The older boy gave up his seat and held it for her. Sere smiled at the boy. "And such gentlemanly manners."

Kudret was fighting, and failing, at keeping his blush down. Lighter-skinned than his father, it was fairly obvious and the girl hummed a little tune to that effect which had the boy hissing at her to be quiet.

"It is the pleasure of my family and I to make your acquaintance, Serenade," returned Ronin, bending at the waist to offer a humble bow of sorts. "I thank you for your compliment, the children are unruly at times but they learn the lessons of etiquette well."

Nimbly, given the size of his hands, he poured a mug of water for Sere. "Please forgive me that I do not stand and give you a proper greeting but as you can see my legs are somewhat under the table." The big knight chuckled despite himself, waggling his feet which protruded out from under the opposite side of the table. "But fair is fair, I did say if she shared and joined us you could have any piece Miss Serenade will share with you."

The children suppressed their cheer this time, the triplets trying not to crowd about her as Kudret found another seat and sat just an arm's length away. By this time Beddy had come to the table with the tarts and knife, curtseying slightly and disappearing again, but not before she gave Serenade an approving smile. "It's quite all right, please don't stand. It would seem difficult to untangle yourself from between the wall and table just to stand and then to sit again," she laughed easily.

Sere gave a piece of tart to each child in return for hearing their names. The first piece went to Isingoma, who had started it all, but the last piece went to Kudret, who could not look her in the eye as he spoke his name. Whispering loudly to Kudret, she brought him back to his ease with a simple sentence. "Now, shall we remind your father that your manners are yet greater than his, as I know _everyone's_ name but his own?"'

A circle of "oooh" flitted about the table as the children coursed, glad to be able to needle their father over etiquette for once.

For his part Ronin just smiled, stifling a small chuckle of his own. They got him fair and square and he wasn't going to begrudge them their fun.

"Why, Miss Serenade is correct, isn't she, father?" asked Kudret, his voice tilting upwards to emphasize the question.

"She most certainly is," agreed the half-giant, nodding in turn to Kudret and Serenade. "My sincerest apologies for my lack of manners, my dear." Straightening ever so slightly like a man standing to attention, although he was sitting on the floor, he spoke in a level, though welcoming pulse. "I am Ronin, a knight of the distant land of Kul'tetha and I am most glad to be welcomed by such a woman as well mannered as she is fair."

Once again taking up his utensils he set about working on the confections before them. "Allow me to make some measure of amends, you shared your food with us, it is only proper we return the gift in kind, is it not?" So finishing he slid a new plate with some funnel cake and fresh shepards pie to the young woman, "if you would, please, dine with us a moment longer."

Sere nodded politely. " Kul'tetha is a long distance from here; are you here for the Festival? It doesn't start for several days yet." Sere chatted easily, sharing a piece of custard tart with Ronin and learning more about the children, since they were always of great interest to her. It seemed that the triplets had a different mother than the older boy, and neither woman was with them. Oh, well, at least they had a father to watch over them, and a good one at that.

At the end, the children were all messy again, but somehow they didn't mind Sere's offer of napkins to clean their own faces; she had pulled a small flute called a whistlecane from her pocket and began to play it. When she offered one to each child who did a good job at their own grooming there was an instant flurry of activity. Sere gave them each their new little instrument, then smiled and made her leave.

* * *

Beiro browsed though the marketplace. He had plenty of extra money from his sales, and seeing as the forest provided no services that could be bought, he planned to spend a little on himself. He had plenty of tools, and spare equipment, and he could create his own leather clothes and moccasins without much trouble. Also of note, he only took what he needed and could carry.

He could provide and cook for himself also, but he rarely got to eat well seasoned foods. He made a selection of roasted meats, paid the vendor the over-inflated price and moved on. He took a bite of the fire-roasted delicacy and quickly realized his penchant for finding things had kicked in; he'd found someone's missing pet canine at that street vendor's cart, well seasoned and slightly under done.

As he looked for something else to eat to take the taste out of his mouth he noticed a young child eyeing a rack of sweet treats. Given the child's appearance he would assume the child was an orphan or the child of peasants. It appeared to be a young human girl with long brown hair. Beiro bent down near the girl and asked "What are those things?", whether out of genuine curiosity or one faked to gain the girl's trust wasn't evident.

"Sweet breads" she smiled. "They are 2 silver, and I only have one."

"Are you sure?" Beiro asked the girl. "I thought I saw two in your hand."

The girl looked at her hand again to realize she had 2 silver pieces. She looked up for the ranger, only to realize he'd vanished into the crowd. The girl wasted no more time in buying herself a sweet roll. 

* * *

Cordi had perched herself on a thatched roof and was observing something in the distance. Saying she was mesmerized by the giant man eating with what appeared to be children's utensils was an understatement.

"That treant's armor shines like the moon!" the words dripped from her mouth with desire. She enjoyed tall things and had never seen a giant or anything other than a treant that would resemble Ronin's height. A treant in shiny armor was something out of her wildest dreams.

She grinned as she wondered how to go about approaching her new found celebrity without angering it. She watched as the Dwarf returned to check on Ronin's table, maneuvering herself quietly and swiftly to get a better look at the armor, and quietly grinned to herself. She'd have to wait before approaching her prey, he was surrounded by too many people, but she had many questions to ask about the local forests and where to find more treants. After all, with armor like that, this had to be the king of the local forest.

* * *

***Roadside***

"Do I look like the kind of person who would know that?" gruffed a sweaty and irritated man probably louder than he intended and, given the look the woman he was talking to, perhaps louder then he should have. "Learn the town or get on with yourself."

Ben winced visibly. There was no need to be rude to the poor traveler, then the hairless flesh at the back of his neck began to rise as the woman stared murder into the man's backside. Ben knew that feeling; something untoward was about to happen. His deep resonant voice rolled through the air like gold wrapped in silk. "Perhaps I might help where my ignorant townsman could not."

Slipping between Frøya and the offending man as he vanished into the crowd Ben smiled, "Ben, cobbler by trade, please allow me to assist you."

"Frøya, healer and herbalist by trade and wizard for the sheer fun of it." She didn't smile, but most of her murderous intent vanished. "My thanks for not being a callous fool."

Ben nodded, his smile seeming to shift almost imperceptibly, glad matters were diffusing. "Well met Frøya, good business requires good manners, and good manners make for good people. A man who spends a good deal of time on his knees serving others certainly understands such things. However, you seem, perplexed, may I ask what is the trouble?"

"This is my first trip to Silverymoon," she informed him, waving a hand at the various stalls, "and while my first impression with its surroundings was rather... disappointing, my expectations for the city itself were a bit higher."

A frown formed on her pretty face. "This **is** an institution for magic and learning, after all, yet no-one seems willing to tell me where I might find books on arcane lore or spell scrolls. I imagine there are libraries and stores around selling these things, but I can't seem to find them."

"Ah, I understand your conundrum, Silverymoon is a large city more grown than planned," admitted Ben with a nod as he turned in place so as to stand alongside her. Gesturing for her to come with him, he began walking at a leisurely pace.

"For works on the Arcane you need to wander closer to the arcane colleges and high temples, depending on what works you are looking into. I doubt you are looking for anything too simple… Might I enquire as to your focus that I can better direct you?"

Frøya flashed him a coy smile. "Well, since I'm both a priestess and a wizard, I have a thing for magic related to lovemaking. Preventing pregnancy, for example, healing sexually transmitted diseases and countering magic meant to make people infertile or impotent." She grew serious as she continued. "The need for such is too great to ignore for any self-respecting healer." Here she flashed him another coy grin, "and the profits that I can gain at the same time, to such ridiculously low prices, truly makes it a worthwhile investment.

"I must also admit that I'm interested in curses and how to best counter them," she went on, back to being serious again. "Not your ordinary curses that a simple "remove curse" spell might counter, mind you, but the more tricky kind, like lycanthropy." She placed a hand gently on his arm. "I won't hold it against you if you can't help me find what I seek. Most people blush furiously, begin stammering helplessly or just outright stare at me in shock and terror when I mention it." When she looked at him, however, she saw neither of those. In place of the usual reactions was a knowing smile. That was surprising.

Ben tried to minimalize the twist curling his smile into a smirk but simply couldn't help himself. Laying his hand on the one resting upon his arm he patted hers gently and winked almost playfully before becoming a bit more serious. "Your goals are well thought out and admirable, and your subjects are, as you say, hard to investigate and forward. But I assure I am a very good cobbler and have fitted and aided all the best of individuals. I'm sure I know a person or two who can help you with all you ask. Perhaps looking into counters to curses first would be easiest, I know a few priests who would welcome the patronage of a learned healer looking to mend more of the cursed and infected."

Frøya fingered her holy symbol, now fascinated with this seemingly ordinary cobbler. There was something about him that tickled her fey senses, but she refrained from casting any magic-sensing spells. She was also quite enamoured with his level of diplomacy, reminding her of, well... _him._

That reminder pulled her back on track, and she merely offered him one of her rarely genuine smiles as she let him lead her in the direction of the temples.

* * *

***In the Market area***

There were many fine stores in Silverymoon, but for the time of the Festival, the Market was even more filled than usual with all manner of goods for sale to tempt the eye and lighten the purse; why, many of the little kiosks weren't even completely set up yet, but Serenade found herself wandering from place to place and vender to vender and entertainer to entertainer with the excitement of a child.

Here she tried venison seasoned with savory salts and wrapped in a bit of flat bread to soak up the juices; there a small bag of hard candies guaranteed to make your teeth ache; and it wasn't long before she found a silken scarf painted with delicate watercolors that she decided to make her very own. She tied it to her left wrist and watched the colors play across her cream over-dress as her arm moved.

As she strolled she could hear music on the warm breeze, and of course she recognized the players; it was the Timmons minstrels taking advantage of the opportunity of making a few coins and advertising themselves for wherever they would be playing that night. Timmons ran a tight group and had very particular tastes in music, and his players were always very good. Sere stopped to watch, a habit of most musicians to be always on the lookout for whatever interesting bit they might add to their own packet of songs. The song was upbeat and had everyone tapping along to a rousing finish when Timmons spotted Serenade in the small crowd.

"And here's The Mistress herself, a young lady and true Bard of Silverymoon who will fill yer hearts with a young man's fancies and fill yer head with an old man's dreams!" The crowd tittered. "Mistress Serenade! Come and do me..." he coughed as if by accident just then, but the crowd was wise to his brand of humor and laughed at his joke. "I say, come and do me the honor of playing a song or two to make an old man smile?"

Sere, knowing his act well, responded on cue, hands on hips and looking around the crowd incredulously. "And what old man might that be, Timmons, me dear? I see only yer pretty young face and allllll these handsome gentlemen!"

"Aaarrrrr, now that's what I call a lady! C'mon, folks! Gi' 'er a little encouragement!" Ah, yes, he knew how to work the crowd. Sere let herself be lead to the center of the group as the crowd applauded lightly. Someone handed her a lute, her instrument of choice, and she ran her hands across the neck and strings in a brilliant arpeggio, just to let the crowd know she knew the instrument.

Timmons' mouth was open again. "Ah, she sure does know how to play those strings, doesn't she, gents? You should see how she plays her men!" The crowd erupted into laughter, men and women alike, and Sere turned another incredulous look on him.

"Here now, Timmons... let's not be sayin' that in public where your wife might be askin' how you come to that conclusion!" And the crowd cheered her one-upmanship while Sere began her song, with the minstrels joining in after hearing only the first few notes. Her song was easy to guess; it was one of Serenade's favorites. Beginning with just a few notes here and there, the others joined in one by one until the world seemed filled with music; the beat was undeniably contagious. It was an old and traditional gypsy lament made new again with the addition of unusual chords that spoke of mystery and excitement as the words told a story of wild heart and irresistible magic.

Serenade's "Shadow Of The Moon" CLICK TO HEAR HER SONG!

When the song was finished, the crowd applauded enthusiastically and one of Timmon's boys passed the hat feverously, asking the listeners to express their pleasure with the sound of coins dropping therein. The 'take' was a good one. Timmons announced once again where his group would be playing that night, and added that Serenade may show up to join them 'for a song or two'. With the showmanship of a lecherous grin, Timmons said his goodbyes to Sere, and dropped a few coins in her hand unnoticed by the crowd. Serenade waved to the watchers and disappeared into the crowd so the focus would stay on Timmons and his band. It was all in a day's work.

* * *

The unusual cobbler had proven quite helpful, as had the clerics at the local church of Selûne. Most of their information about curing lycanthropy was known to her already, but a visiting cleric of Mystra had offered information about some mysterious well that her temple would have some information about; something about curing any type of curse, regardless of its origin. Frøya had agreed to meet her at the marketplace, and after visiting The Lady's College and Miresk's School of Thaumaturgy, she now had several books and spell scrolls stored safely in her _bag of holding_, a magical bag the size of a normal leather pouch that could house a seemingly endless amount of items.

It was on her way to the marketplace that she heard the haunting tune of a song and the captivating voice of the woman who sang it. Unconsciously fingering her holy symbol, the young priestess found herself drawn in the general direction of the music. What drew her in was not the combination of musical instruments, the voice of the singer nor the melody itself; it was the lyrics, speaking out to her wild soul in ways she couldn't even begin to describe. Reclusive by nature, Frøya found an unclaimed spot in the shadows as she listened to the song, taking in how expertly the singer played the lute, how her voice was never off-key and how she entranced the audience with her natural charm and magnetism. Frøya herself was entranced, but she still remained where she was.

Something about the song tickled her fey senses and a small smile played on her lips as she realised where it came from; this was no ordinary, albeit highly skilled, entertainer. She could weave magic into her music, perhaps even cast several spells that would affect the minds of men and women alike. Frøya took note of this and stored this piece of information into the back of her head. _Anyone proving to possess more than a "passing talent",_ he'd said. This woman certainly qualified for that.

When the song was finished, Frøya kept her head down as she waited for the bard to leave. Once she had, the mage moved through the crowd as if she'd always been a part of it, seeking out the Mystran cleric in the marketplace.

*******************

Ondea's reverie was interrupted by a serving girl; Ondea didn't recognize the girl. "Can I get you something to eat or drink, ma'am?" asked the girl quietly as Ondea stared at her with her violet eyes.

"We require water and food, preferably meat."

The serving girl scanned the seats of the table quickly, and seeing only Ondea, was a bit confused. "Expecting company?"

"No," responded Ondea. "We dine alone this day."

"You are required to pay in advance. It will be one gold."

Ondea reached into a pouch on her hip and placed the gold coin into the serving girl's hand. "We are aware."

The serving girl sighed. The patron's of this establishment seemed to get weirder and weirder by the day. She walked off to complete Ondea's order.

Ondea once again closed her eyes, enjoying the solitude and privacy that she was certain would be lacking in the coming days.

The serving girl came back fairly quickly with a flagon of water and a plate of stew.

"Thank you," responded Ondea. The serving girl simply nodded.

Ondea ate the food quickly; she hadn't realized she was so hungry until she began eating. The stew was good.

When she finished, she left a gold on the table for the serving girl, and left with her pack on her back.

* * *

***Pastry Shop***

Stomachs fed if not full, Ronin and his family began to clean up, neatly collecting the dishes and ensuring the table they used was at least as clean as they'd found it, and probably better. Avenlina was holding his helmet, Kudret his shield and the boys Isingoma and Gervasius were carefully holding the jagged jade sword so that it would not be in the way. Ronin simply lifted the table from the floor, finding it the easiest way to extricate himself, and set it back down in place, the children helping him return the chairs to their original positions.

Hooking his helmet to his hip, Ronin took his weapon and shield from the children and affixed them to his back. "Let's see them."

Obediently the children each lifted a small leather necklace with a crystal pendant up for their father to see. The crystals glowed faintly for a moment as Ronin nodded and the children put them away. Gently laying a hand on Kudret's shoulder he smiled, "Don't let them run you ragged, son."

Kudret nodded, "Aye father."

"Good," smiling to all four he finished. "Well then come here all of you."

Getting on a knee they gathered and Ronin hugged them all. Looking to the triplets his face rippled into a wry grin, "don't give your brother too much trouble."

"Ok daddy," the three sing-songed together.

"Now go have fun," he said shooing the trio away. They cheered, with Kudret speedily keeping up, already half shouting phrases like 'don't touch that'. Ronin allowed himself a light chuckle as he took the reins of the horses drawing the caravan and whistled for his own steed to heel. Slowly, so as not to run people down but also to enjoy the atmosphere, he made his way from the bustling madness of the building celebration towards the relative quiet and vacancy of the stables and parking fields. 

* * *

Cordi was unusually interested in the giant Ronin and was following him, using her native skills to elude his and many others' notice of her. She was elated to see the fire haired woman, the bothersome Dwarf and the children leave his side. It was rare for her to go this long focused on a single target, then again Ronin and his kind were not a common sight either.

The Wild Elf mage followed Ronin to the stables, careful to take notice of those around. If there were any attendants to aid Ronin in taking care of his steeds or wagon, they hadn't arrived at the moment. She knew this was her chance to the meet the Lord of the Forest, and to get a far better chance to look at his armor.

Using her spear to vault herself, she leapt into the air like a fierce warrior jumping out in an ambush attack, spinning the spear in mid air over her head before landing before Ronin's massive feet. She dropped the spear long ways in front of her and knelt before him, her head bowed down.

"My High Lord of the Forest, I am Cordiana Mistletoe of the Chondalwood. I beg of thee to call me Cordi. Your armor shines bright and your presence commands greatness, may I be permitted to speak with you about your lands, oh majestic Treant Lord?" 


	4. Chapter 4: Curiosities

***Stableyard***

Ronin slowly eased his shield down from a ready-battle stance as the young woman introduced herself and complimented him. "Uh...Cordi...ah, please rise."

Smiling, he returned the shield to his side as he regained his composure, his mind still turning over what she said and trying to make sense of it. It certainly fit to a point, he wore well crafted armor and was in fact a landed noble, though why she presumed him to be a treant he couldn't ascertain.

"My dear Cordi, I am appreciative of your compliments and the respect you show me does you great honor. However I believe you are misled, I am no treant, nor lord of forest or woodland. My home is a land of desert and verdant oasis and much further than the Chondalwood. Speak, of course, as you desire, you need not my leave to share your mind."

"Master…?" Cordi said sheepishly as she arose. She seemed rather disappointed in the fact Ronin was not the lord of these lands. She was drawing various designs in the loose dirt with her toes as she asked "If you are not a treant, then what are you, master?"

Though before allowing him to respond, she beamed a huge smile and outstretched her right hand while slinging her spear to her left, stretching her back in a large arch. "It is beautiful and huge, might I be permitted to touch it?" referring of course to his armor, more directly his helmet hung on his hip. Making a sad puppy dog face she added "please master, just once?" She was completely mesmerized by his large shiny helmet.

Ronin chuckled at Cordi's child-like innocence and wondered if it was an act she used to get peoples trust or if she were genuinely so care free. He'd give her the benefit of the doubt and take her at face value for now. Removing the helmet from his hip he answered her, "you need not call me Master, Cordi, and you certainly may touch the helmet if you promise to tell me about yourself as well."

The knight held the gleaming and engraved helm forward, the jewel inset just over the visor gleaming in the light as if just polished.

"I am a half -giant in answer to your first question, descended of humans and sand giants," Ronin answered though in truth his lineage was probably more mixed then that; he probably had some death giant in him too given how his flesh tended to coal-black in some places, but he didn't feel that needed mentioning.

Cordi didn't hesitate to take Ronin's helmet. She then did a back flip and landed on top of a water barrel behind her, land with one foot on each side. She bent down at the knees over the top, her legs spread apart. She turned the helmet over and over, studying each and every tiny detail with great precision.

She then looked up at Ronin, smiling brightly. "A giant?" she asking puzzled. By this time she was looking into the helmet. "What does Master require of me?" Cordi asked. She held up the helmet and began to lower it on to her own head. The mammoth headgear would swallow her entire head whole. She stopped shy of doing just that while grinning ear to ear. "This is most wonderful!" She exclaimed happily before offering it back to its owner. 

***Market***

Beiro watched as some troupe of performers selected a bard woman from the crowd. The jokes were largely lost on him, having not been a regular member of society and mostly a loner since the bloody loss of his family. Their alternate meanings were not something he was used to hearing. He watched as she began to play a song, and that was not lost on him. He found it as entertaining as the woman was beautiful.

He tossed a silver or two in the hat as it passed by but he lost track of the bard, and was unsure of where they said they'd be performing again. A shame really, oh well, he wasn't going to try to track her down in the crowd.

He looked about, attempting to take in the crowd. Something about one of them seemed somehow off, very unnatural. He wasn't sure which however, and couldn't seem to focus on just one. It must be the great number of people near him; he wasn't used to this. Beiro looked up to the sky. He began to wonder if it was going to rain, and what would happen to all these people if it did.

Beiro took note of his surroundings once again; something out of the corner of his eye had alerted him. Attempting to gaze past the various patrons arriving for the festival, he caught another glance of that which had interested him.

It was a woman, and she was wearing grey wrappings about her body and carrying a pack. If he had to guess, she was an assassin or an avenger, a person who required stealth to do their work. Truly to see such a person making their way through this crowd, dressed like that, was not normal. He would assume most working for a client would prefer to blend into the crowd and this person could blend well, but those wrappings also alerted him to something more.

Ondea carefully worked her way through the crowd. Most gave her the space she wanted. Most dared not let their gaze linger upon her. Her violet eyes stared daggers at whoever dared to make eye contact with her. Constantly she looked around, making herself aware of her surroundings, making sure she knew exactly what was around her at all times should the need arise it.

She may have missed it at first. Maybe she hadn't. She couldn't be sure.

Her violet eyes met his dark eyes briefly. She glared at him briefly, and continued on her way. In her mind, she thought he looked out of place. She continued to look back periodically to see if he was still watching her.

Beiro's eyes meet the young drow's from across the crowded street. He felt strangely drawn to follow her, almost as if she had selected him from the crowd to speak with. He could tell she was no slouch, but he didn't feel as if she'd attack, so he began to follow her. Beiro was wondering why he felt drawn to her; he had no delusions of grandeur, he knew she wasn't seeking him for good looks, and he doubted she was seeking him because he was her target. Maybe she wanted to hire him for some task, but wanted to speak privately, not uncommon really, most who looked to hire a scout, guard or tracker didn't want to discuss it with so many ears around. He noticed the young lady had gone into an alley way so he followed, unsure of what to expect. 

*****

Ondea saw he was following, but why was he after her? The only weapon she had readily available was the small dagger in her boot. Her other weapons were nicely bundled with her armor in the cloth that made up the burden on her back. She was skilled enough without weapons, but unarmed combat was not exactly her preferred method of defending herself.

She ducked into an alley, doing her best to hide in the shadows. It wasn't the most clandestine move, but if he was after her, she didn't want to lose him. She wanted to question him.

Something didn't feel right to her. He was following her, yes, but when he looked at her, it was more curiosity than anything else. Perhaps he wanted to do business?

Well, she would see what he wanted, and if need be, defend herself to the best of her ability. 

***Stableyard***

Ronin released a thin whistle, impressed by Cordi's acrobatic display and easy balance. He hadn't even noticed the water barrel and certainly couldn't have balanced on its lip even if it could support his weight, at least not as easily as she could. He watched as she played with the helmet, half talking to herself and half talking to him, the thought of her putting the over sized "bucket" on her skull gaining a restrained snirk from the knight.

Taking his helmet back from Cordi, he affixed to his hip once more and turned to the saddle bags of his steed, fishing out a fistful of carrots for the great beast. "I have rarely seen a green-elf before and never in a city so grand as this. May I ask what brings you here Cordi, and what you intend to do now that you've come?"

The Wild Elf grabbed the edge of the barrel with both hands and then did a handstand, hands opposite each other, grinning upwards through her tangled dreadlocked hair, she lowered herself face first into the water before submerging her entire head. Her native upbringing had taught her no shame of her body, so if anything was exposed during this, she showed no embarrassment. She then pushed herself up out of the barrel landing on her feet behind it, bending down and lapping water from it much like a dog would.

Cordi looked up and replied "I followed you here, wishing to speak with you about your fine majestic clothes." Cordi began to skip about the barrel, swinging her spear about as a marshal in a parade. She stopped, turned to the knight and dropped into a crossed legged sitting position. She grinned at him cheerfully and produced from her scarce garments a handmade reed flute. "I'm not sure what I'll do now that I'm here with these horses. I'm enjoying talking to you, master, I might travel back to that city when we are finished talking." She then held the flute up to her mouth and began to play a sad little tune, which seemed to cause the horses to become very calm.

_'Impressive,'_ noted Ronin at Cordis' antics, not just for her physique but for her physicality. Given her slight frame it was quite the feat for her to, seemingly, easily balance on her hands and nothing but, to say nothing of the dexterity. Ronin knew for a fact he couldn't do that, despite the fact he was more then strong enough to support his own weight with just his arms. Petting Ralchard and leaving the great steed to more or less mind himself Ronin listened to Cordis playing, noting the effect it had on the animals and once more impressed by the, to him, diminutive girl.

"I'm glad you found this as enjoyable as I have Cordi, you are quite the interesting girl and your playing is superb," complimented the knight. Musical talent always impressed Ronin because he had absolutely none to speak of. Nodding, he began walking towards the city proper, "unfortunately I cannot stay here long, there are matters and issues I would like to take care of in Silverymoon."

He offered Cordi a short bow and a hand up, though he doubted she'd take it given her acrobatic abilities. "Though if you wish to come along with me I would not at all be displeased."

Cordi stopped playing her flute and quickly tucked it away. She grinned at the large knight's outstretched hand and took it quickly. Any chance to lay her hands on this massive creature of wonder delighted her. The fact she didn't climb up his back and attempt to ride him piggy back was something to wonder at for any who knew her. Though to any paying attention, the joy she was experiencing at spending time with Ronin was very much akin to a child opening gifts on their birthday.

After being helped up, she dropped back down onto her knuckles much like a gorilla and began to walk alongside the knight, wherever he may go, at least for now. She'd examine each and every mound of grass or pile of rocks as if looking for something.

She then turned to her new found friend and smiled gleefully at him. "Will you let me see your gargantuan stuff later?" Cordi stopped and smiled at him. "Your weapon is most impressive. How much does it weigh? Where is the best place to rest? Where will you eat? Why did you come to this place?"

Ronin raised a hand in mock defense as if trying to shield himself from Cordi's stream of questions in the universal though good natured body language of _'too many questions'._

"Of course I'll let you see my equipment, Cordi," laughed Ronin, the girl's exuberance and energy was both infectious and warming and he couldn't help but smile at her broadly.

"I'm not entirely sure how much my sword weighs, I've never had to define it, but probably close to half as much as you," he pondered for a moment, given Cordi's slight build if even half of her could equal his sword's size. He was forced to realize, then, that the weight of his items and even his person was never anything he'd exactly nailed down, in fact he had no clue how much he weighed, just "close to a horse" if he had to guess. Shaking his head with a chuckle he continued.

"Truthfully I am not certain where the best place to rest is," admitted Ronin before winking playfully at the wild-elf. "Near friends and family would be my best guess, Silverymoon is a big place and I'm sure there are accommodations of varying quality to be had for those with coin and luck. As for where to eat, that too is a good question, it has been some time since I sampled the delicacies of The North but I think I will look for some fish. Fish of any sort is rare in my homeland so I think I will look for a dockside restaurant as the evening comes. Lastly I came to Silverymoon to witness and partake in the Silver Festival. How could I miss a celebration that only takes place every five years..."

Ronin paused in thought as they drew near to the city proper, looking to Cordi as she examined some tuft of foliage or something in it he could not see. "Were you aware that there would be a grand festival starting in a few days Cordi?"

"Fish!" Cordi exclaimed with unbridled joy. "I can catch fish!" She stood up and faced Ronin. "I'll use the flames to cook them, they will be good!" She looked about cheerfully, as if searching for something.

"Which way is the water?" she asked Ronin "I'll go get the fish! I love fish!"

She leapt up and landed on all fours. "Fish are good! Is the festival for fish? I don't have the metals the men want for their cooked fish, I catch my own. I will catch you fish too! How many fish do I need to catch? Can you eat five fish?"

Cordi stopped and seemed to get lost in thought. "What should I call you master?" She snorted and turned her nose upwards. "They said I don't dress proper enough to eat food with them. I need a dress." She snorted.

"I will catch us fish! Anyone who wants to join can join wearing whatever they want!" She grinned ear to ear. "You can wear your shiny clothes though, they are beautiful!" 

*****

Possessing the spells she needed, or at least some of the spells she desired, was only part of what she wanted to achieve. Even if one had the most powerful scroll in the world it meant nothing if the caster couldn't understand and focus the energies to direct said magic. Normally she would leave this smelly, crowded place to return to her forest home and practice her new found acquisitions in peace but she still hadn't found all she was looking for. The Cobbler –Ben, was it?-- said he could direct her to a mage with spells relating to more erotic/reproductive nature to satisfy her first query, later, so that meant leaving town would be counter-productive. So… what then?

Maybe she could rent time at one of the mage colleges to practice her art, surely they had an area for students to practice their spell without danger of destroying the things around them, and given the nature of the spells she procured she might even find someone to test them out on, once she felt she mastered them enough of course. It was as good a course of action as any...

That was when she caught that scent, forest and steel, a ...a man releasing just a hint of sweat, of exertion. A person not too unlike herself, a person who understood the wilderness, at least in part, was in the area, quite close, and so was another scent, this one much more familiar to her; a drow. A drow, here? That could be very bad, but more likely would be very interesting. A... yes, a female drow and a forest man, yes, very interesting. Frøya smiled to herself. She could practice magic whenever but she'd have to follow the trail now... 

*****

If Beiro was aware Frøya was following him, he wasn't showing it. Though his senses weren't heightened enough to detect scents, he was unaware he was following a Drow. He arrived at the entrance of the alley and looked about, taking in all the details. Beiro was still uneasy. His hatchet was safely tucked away in his pack; he figured the fewer weapons on his person, the less attention he'd draw from the over-zealous guards. At this range, he'd never get a good shot with his bow before the mysterious female managed to ambush him, if she so choose to do so. That left him with his long sword and his long knife. He thumbed them both before assuming his best bet would be the knife, the alley was tight and left little room to swing a sword.

He left it sheathed, no point in provoking the young woman; for now he'd assume she was an ally. He looked about watching for the girl and noticed her after a brief moment; his eyes weren't trained to find people in city streets.

Beiro took a few more steps forward, presenting both hands palms open and forward to show he meant no harm. "I'm called Beiro, or some call me The Wanderer. Were you drawing me her to discuss something or am I mistaken?"

Ondea raised an eyebrow at Beiro. _Drawing him here to discuss something?_ "We did no such thing. You were following us." she stated, eying the man and his exposed weapons. He was an elf, or at least, part elf. His features were not quite what one would expect, but he lacked the facial hair common to most half humans. He wasn't overtly threatening her, but that didn't mean she was just about to trust him.

"We are called Ondea." She bowed slightly and slid her pack off her back and set it down gently beside her. If there was going to be a fight, she wanted to be as light and maneuverable as possible. "We are what you would call a mercenary."

She watched him to see what he would do. Perhaps he would be interested in hiring her. Perhaps he would try to fight her. Perhaps he'd get bored and just walk away. She had no idea what this man wanted, nor what made him think she had wanted him to follow. _This one before us is indeed strange..._

Beiro was lost now. He had felt so drawn to this young woman. Maybe it was divine intervention. No, he didn't believe in such nonsense. He just wasn't used to being in a city and had gotten confused. He watched as Ondea slid her pack down and sat it on the ground. He just couldn't shake it from his head. It had to be the heat, he wasn't used to being in the sunlight, and as nearly always, he had his hooded cloak on, with the hood up to hide his face. He always tried to keep his face hidden; if Quoros had taught him anything, it was that he wasn't an elf and being half-human was nothing to be proud of in life. His half-human side made him hideous to all who would dare look upon him. Now, he was following women into alleys, feeling drawn to them for unexplained reasons. It must have just been his stupid curiosity.

Beiro lost what little confidence he had, and now his curiosity had left him in a bad spot. He wasn't sure, but he thought the girl before him was an elf. Elves were always attractive, so this girl had to be also. No doubt she was completely disgusted by being in the presence of a half-human abomination like him. Beiro began to back off. He could hear Quoros laughing at him from his grave inside his head, the roaring of the laughter drowning out Ondea mentioning she was a mercenary. He raised his hands attempting to hide his face better. "So..soo…sorry to… to have…bother…bothered you, miss," Quoros' laugher was a roar far mightier than any horn could produce. "My… my mistake."

It wasn't that Beiro was afraid of girls, it wasn't even that he was afraid of Ondea or even elves in general. He was afraid that Quoros was right about him, that he was worthless and that no one would ever really be close to him. He'd buried Quoros' remains personally all those annuals ago, but still Quoros' cruelty towards him lived on inside his head.

Beiro managed to clear the alley and back off to a nearby cart. There he collapsed into a heap, careful to keep his eyes on the alley, though still slightly shaking. He'd regain his composure soon enough, and then move on.


End file.
